


You Paint Yourself White (And Fill Up With Noise)

by mal (ultramar)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Angst, Bad Self-Image, Implied/Referenced Body Dysmorphia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, slight mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:59:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7018300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultramar/pseuds/mal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You knew I worked here, at the cafe, you were with your group of friends and briefly mentioned it after you presented yourself as Tyler (and somehow, even though I knew who you hung out with I didn’t know your name.) you stared at me as you lit the joint for the longest time before you gave the lighter back and I left.</p><p>Josh was half lying when he said the last thing he wanted was to talk to him or get to know him or smoke weed with him (and that, in fact, wasn’t because of you, Tyler, but because getting stoned wasn’t something I liked to do anymore).</p><p>After all, they're all stereotypes, aren't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Get Any Big Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> Don't get any big ideas-  
> They're not gonna happen.

_I never notice until it's too late. I never notice when my hands start to shake, when I’m feeling faint._

 

I was cleaning the store and I saw you sitting on a sofa by the window far away from the counter, where I was. You were writing something in a black notebook and in the same hoodie I knew you wore anytime it was cold and early because I had seen you way too many morning theory lessons at the auditorium with it. 

 

I haven’t stopped to think that maybe I know a bit too much about you even though we met for the first time today when you were lighting a joint. Because you needed a lighter, _a match box wasn’t cutting it._

 

But it was contradicting and the last thing I wanted was to talk to you or get to know you or smoke weed with you ( _and that, in fact, wasn’t because of you but because getting stoned wasn’t something i liked to do anymore_ ).

 

You knew I worked here, at the cafe, you were with your group of friends and briefly mentioned it after you presented yourself as Tyler (and somehow, even though I knew _who_ you hung out with I didn’t know your name.) _you stared at me as you lit the joint for the longest time before you gave the lighter back and I left._

 

I left - _mainly_ \- because everything had been awful in the morning. Another day, another shitty day. I was late to class. I was late to the same class for the third time in a row and it isn’t like I am not trying to change the fact that I am a mess early in the morning or that I really need to stop drinking so much coffee and start organising my week better so I can stop falling asleep late, late when you really don’t know how long is going to be before the sun rises, so I can get up earlier and avoid the embarrassment of entering the auditorium (because theory lessons are of course the only lesson we have at 8:00am and it also is the only lesson every student in second year has at the same day, same hour). But I _do_ need to start doing a lot of things, such as find the time to start projects before the deadline _or work out more or eat less junk and somehow work more hours so I can afford rent._

 

And now, even though I really am an anxious person on the inside I truly am trying to act cool because you (Tyler) are sitting in the cafe I work in, looking perplexed by your stupid little notebook you always carry around.

 

I finish scrubbing the floor and collect the dirty mugs customers left lying around. Colleen (my manager) asks if I could close today and even though I’m about to drop dead on the same floor I just finished cleaning and tomorrow I need to put up an installation for volume class that I haven’t started to put together, I accept, I accept because closing up means _more hours_ and more hours means _more money._ So just as simple as nodding I accept my fate too and pick up a notepad because apparently Sam and Mike are too busy to attend the customers (or show up for work).

 

I take a breath before walking to the closest table, there is an old guy who is sitting next to a younger lady. I smile, I welcome them and I take their orders. Politeness and friendliness are crucial to getting them to tip. _Oh do you want some caramel shots in your latte? sure! I can put soy milk instead of ordinary milk, may I suggest the cranberry cheesecake, it’s wonderful, thanks, i’ll be back immediately with your orders._

 

Avoiding for a little longer going to Tyler’s table (because he doesn’t seem interested in ordering anything -not that I would know- and just _because._ ) I go behind the counter and prepare the hot drinks, get two plates, one with a chocolate muffin, the other with the cheesecake that I suggested which I haven’t tasted and was surely bullshitting them into getting a slice.

 

I get them their orders and going to tyler’s table is inevitable now. There are literally no more customers (nobody comes between 4:30 and 5:30pm, it’s usually the only slow hour of the day) and I can’t just _not go._ So I walk slowly, taking my time with each step, and once I get there he doesn’t look up. I kind of sigh inwardly before getting my vocal chords to work and utter a single “Hey”

 

In that moment I swear to myself that it is not that I have something personal against Tyler but my voice sounds so dull and I kind of catch my reflexion in the window noticing how my dyed hair is frizzy and faded _and uneven_ and that I look a little dead. 

 

But Tyler looks up and smiles with the wrinkles of his eyes and closes the notebook before greeting me: “Hey!”

 

I force myself to be a decent waiter and refrain from mentioning the black smears of ink over his hand (which probably are from serigraphy workshop).

 

“What can I get you?” I smile at that, I smile because it’s my job. But maybe -and just maybe- he notices how mechanical is my voice or how well practiced is all of this, this waiter façade.

 

“I told you I knew this place!” His voice does not even fail, he laughs a little nervously, “How’s your day going?”

 

I’m confused for a full second, although, you could expect that by now people would know that us, people that worked attending more people, were treated as _human beings_ it was still a _rare_ occurrence on a daily basis. I find my voice back and even though he is Tyler and this is weird he is still being really nice. That’s why before speaking I make a noticeable effort into sounding less tired and not so fake (maybe a little more genuine too.)

 

“Fine, still need to figure out a volume project for tomorrow though,” I stumble a little over the phrase and _when did I develop this amount of trouble speaking?_ “yours?”

 

He looks down, “Not so good, need to hand in an essay later.”

 

“Is that what you’re working on?” I motion my hands in a general direction to the notebook which Tyler has been holding protectively (I don’t think he notices he does that).

 

“Oh, this?” he rubs his neck and for a moment I’m afraid the ink on his hands will leave smears on his jawline, “No… this is mine, I mean, not for class,”

 

I nod understandingly although I knew it was his own writing (I already said I probably knew too much about him even though we just met a few hours ago _when he asked for the lighter)_ it was obvious, he carries that notebook around and his fingers curl over the cover in a familiar way.

 

“Oh, okay. Can I get you anything?” I change the topic and not in a subtle way. I hold the pen to the pad out of habit and he thinks for a second before replying.

 

“Plain coffee?” _That, Tyler, does not sound as a statement, it sounds more like a question dude._

 

“Okay, anything else?”

 

“No thank you. Do you smoke?”

 

“I could _kill_ for a cigarette right now, I forgot my pack at mine.”

 

And even though I could actually kill someone for a smoke -not really- the most disturbing thing was that Tyler knew I smoked. He must have known. He saw me smoking and that’s why he asked for a lighter, that’s why I lent him _a lighter._ If I didn’t smoke it would have been rare I had a lighter with me; he must have known! (Why’d he ask?)

 

“When’s your break?”

 

“ ‘should have taken it half an hour ago.”

 

“Let’s go out for a smoke” _That wasn’t a question Tyler, why don’t you know when to properly ask things dude?_

 

“Wait for me”

 

I don’t say anything else, I turn around and head to the staff room looking for my supposedly co-workers. 

 

I find Mike rummaging through some cupboards in the kitchen -probably looking for something he could eat without getting in trouble. I give him my notepad and the black apron we are supposed to wear without saying a word, and I’m about to turn my back when he confusedly asks me _what the fuck, Josh, why are you giving me this?_

 

_“I’m taking my break, your’s is over.”_

 

Then I leave and I don’t care because I really _do_ want my break and I don’t know what I’m really doing. _Since when exactly did Tyler know I worked here? or more specifically, since when did he decide that he didn’t want to hang out with his stoner friends and that it would be a good idea to come spend his time sharing cigarettes with me?_ I don’t know why I agreed, and it’s not that I have something against Tyler but it’s not like he’s a friend of mine either. But I truly don’t care, my head is throbbing and I’m hungry and I want a smoke and Tyler comes out of nowhere with free tobacco, apparently.

 

I go to the staff room again and put on a black hoodie and my denim jacket. I’m freezing, winter is nearing. I take a look at the mirror on the wall and try to somewhat fix my messy hair. It’s useless.

 

I bring Tyler’s coffee with me as I walk towards him. He seems to be lost in though as he looks out of the window. I make my presence known by faux-coughing and he stands up. I give him the paper cup containing _‘plain coffee’._

 

We leave the store and he follows me to a spot I like spending my breaks at. There are benches scattered around with a fountain in the middle. And because it’s a busy area with lots of stores nearby and a strip mall right in the next block, workers have claimed this space for their lunch time or whenever they can escape their managers for a smoke or whatever.

 

We sit in an empty bench, my legs giving up, I have been standing far too long. Tyler hasn’t said anything ever since we left the cafe and neither have I. He doesn’t look at me weirdly, he sits besides me and stares.

 

“I don’t really drink coffee,” _what?_ “do you want it?”

 

I’m a bit surprised, most of us (the freaks from art school) can’t live without caffeine, why would he ask for coffee then?

 

“Sure” I take the plastic cup and warm my hands, I won’t ever accept it but i feel grateful. I take a sip, a small sip to see if I won’t burn my tongue if I drink it fast. I smile shyly, this is probably the nicest thing someone has done for me this week, _month, whatever._

 

Tyler takes out a pack of brown filtered cigarettes and I take one -also grateful for that. 

 

“Thanks dude.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, _Josh_ ”

 

And it looks as simple as that but it really isn't. There's a reason why I don't hang with guys like Tyler, and maybe that reason seems illogically dumb now, but it still is a valid reason. Well, maybe I  should stop judging people by their stereotypes or their friends but Tyler still is that douche that turns every piece of shit into a conceptual piece of art and feels _artistic_ because he wears floral printed dress shirts _or blames the system for everything but doesn't do a goddamned thing to change it._

 

But why does that matter so much? I'm a stereotype too and I have accepted it. I wear combat boots and smoke cigarettes and apply relativism to almost everything, I'm a walking stereotype but somewhere between adolescence and adulthood (I am still a kid though) I stopped taking myself so seriously. I'm no more than an overworked art student heading no-where in life that prefers taco bell over any other fast food restaurant any day.

 

In this exact moment Tyler looks at me and smiles, I can't tell if it's a shy smile or just a smile, but he is not making sense to me in my head and I am regretting having accepted to close the store today.

 

"Is this what your normal day after classes looks like?" Tyler is not looking at me anymore, he closed his jacket and holds his notebook close. He has his legs closed at his ankles and looks foreign to me, is like now I am truly meeting him for the first time.

 

"Something like this, sometimes I don't work and I'm stuck doing other things, what about you?"

 

I'm glad he seems to be better at getting the conversation going because inside I am petrified and my mind is blindly giving me logical arguments on how communicating or chatting with new people is overrated or how this is going nowhere and how this isn't really worthwhile because I'm really nothing new or exciting and he probably knows better.

 

Somewhere between adolescence and adulthood I lost my sense of proximity and the self-esteem I had gathered when I was 18, now, a few years later I can't seem to understand why anybody would want to speak with someone like me.

 

"Well, I don't work, but I enjoy playing the ukulele, even guitar sometimes." he looks like a nervous person and I really hope I don't show how unsettled I am feeling. "Do you play any instruments?"

 

"I play the drums, I thought about studying music but drums weren't really enough." I laugh half heartedly.

 

"I was looking for a drummer the other day!" he exclaims like he has discovered something important "apparently anyone in the campus besides from you plays the drums, how come nobody told me to ask _you?"_

 

"I don't know, I don't really talk to much people there" I take a slow drag from the cigarette before stumping it to the floor, I cross my arms over my chest and avoid looking at Tyler who is taping a rhythm on his notebook (and it shouldn't be taunting but it is) "maybe that's why"

 

"We should totally make a band." He is smiling, again, and it seems like it's the only thing he has done since I took his order on the store, earlier "That would be sick, man"

 

"We barely know each other."

 

"We'll get to know each other better then."

 

And maybe it isn't even about stereotypes why I haven't talked to Tyler before today but because I'm always intimidated by talking to people who are obviously more talented than me, or anybody who is handsome or cute. And Tyler is not someone intimidating, that's for sure, but he turns to look at me with his big childlike eyes and I swear that they hypnotize me for a second.

 

"Come one, say yes" he is pleading at me silently as if from this day and forward I could ever again deny him anything ever again. I know I won't be able to. So I nod slowly and sigh, not a sad or an angry sigh, more of a defeated and content sigh at the same time.

 

It's almost ironic.

 

"Okay Tyler, let's start a band." and I'm not being sarcastic or bullshitting him but it sounds like that to my own ears. Tyler doesn't seem to care _, he just smiles, the biggest smile I have seen him smile so far._

 


	2. You'll Find Something Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you should have stopped your instincts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You paint yourself white  
> And fill up with noise  
> But there'll be something missing

I’m walking rapidly towards the campus. It’s not as early as I’d wanted it to be but at least I’m not late _yet._ My stomach is growling impassively but that’s my fault. I haven’t being grocery shopping for the longest time and I was too late to have time to decide wether the green spots on the cheese that’s left in my fridge where there when I initially bought it. I didn’t have time to do anything this morning -as usual- and I’m craving a big hot mug of coffee.

 

Luckily I have some spare change from doing laundry (which I hadn’t done in forever and took more than it was necessary because it was too crowded and I had to wait for a washing machine to be unoccupied) and that means I can afford an extra cup of coffee today from the cafeteria if instead of buying normal lunch (which I normally sacrifice for more coffee) I buy a bag of crisps or a can of Coke. _Wow Josh, way to be healthy._

 

I’m listening to music and that’s why I just wave at everyone I know from afar as I enter the building. I’m walking towards the restroom, aiming to wash my face before getting coffee. Later I need to get drawing and hopefully get some sketches done with the new model. Drawing classes aren't something that occupies the mind, it's more of a relaxing task and I actually enjoy it more than than I usually admit.

 

The restroom is empty and I go towards the faucets. I put my hands together, cupping some water, and I splash it over my face. _It's freezing, oh fuck._ I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to rub the tiredness of staying up working on some photography assignment away. _It doesn't really work that way, you need to sleep more in order to rest, there is no amount of coffee that will work as a substitute for that, Josh._

 

I don’t look at the mirror, I imagine what I must look like: a wet dog. Frizzy dyed hair (I can’t emphasise on how frizzy it looks to me), the darkest black circles and bags under my eyes, grey skin, crooked nose. If i squint it's still noticeable, the bump on the bone of my nose. Sometimes, in days like this, when I have hardly slept about three hours since Monday -it’s Wednesday- I really wish I was someone else. I wish I didn’t worry about stupid crap about my body (like my frizzy hair which is my own damn fault because I am the one who dyes it and no one forces me to do it, or other stupid things that nobody cares about, like my appearance or the worrying fact that every day I look more like a homeless person). On days like this I wish I could stay at home, lying on the messy floor of my bedroom, I wish I was invisible or had another body. A body nobody could recognise as Josh Dun’s.

 

On days like this I’m tired of the bullshit of being alive but that sounds just a little too melodramatic for anyone else to like.

 

I splash some more water on my face for the last time. It doesn't feel as cold anymore, my face gets used to the water and it is almost refreshing. I grab the hem of the hoodie I’m wearing to dry my face, trying to avoid lifting my shirt but of course it is inevitable. The shirt sticks to the hoodie  and so I feel the cool air hit my uncovered skin. I shiver and I enjoy the feeling of warm, soft fabric agains my wet skin. But I still pointedly close my eyes to stop myself from staring at me as I dry my face because if I wasn’t tired of looking at myself before I surely am now-

 

“Josh!”

 

I cover my torso with the shirt and the hoodie again as quickly as possible and I blush. I blush as red as a freaking tomato. I blush so hard I start imagining the water that's left on my face evaporating from my cheeks. I am embarrassed, really fucking embarrassed. Mainly, because I’m greeted by a high Tyler who is giggling subtly and looking into my general direction and I can’t help but feel like shit for two reasons: 1) he saw me kind of, almost shirtless, and 2) it’s me who he saw, _me. Me, awkward Josh Dun drying his face with his own clothes because he is a dirty vagabond._

 

 

Tyler seems like he wants to say something, and I kind of want to hear whatever he wants to say because after deciding we would form a band we talked for the rest of my break and he gave me other two cigarettes and he turned out to be really soothing and interesting and wished me good luck for the rest of my shift. He even payed for the coffee I drank and left the change into the ‘tips’ jar.

 

But I don’t listen and I don’t know if he stops smiling after I leave: I rush out of the restroom and head towards the cafeteria to buy myself coffee and then go to the drawing workshop. I know we won’t see each other again today because today we don’t have any lessons together and we don’t share any professor. I know I won’t have to deal with him again (even if i want to) until we cross paths later this week whenever it has to happen but at least I will make sure that it doesn't happen _soon._ Tyler, _why do I feel so embarrassed about this little incident? Why am I so irrevocably awkward? I actually thought we could do something together this weekend but it had to be today the day fate decided that I would make a fool out of myself. I shouldn’t have left so abruptly. If it weren’t because I’m exhausted I wouldn’t even have been so fucking embarrassed._

 

I actually think about messaging you but I don’t know where I left my phone so it must be somewhere in my flat. My phone doesn't even have battery, probably. I know I put your contact in my contact list though.

 

I obsess over the incident over the day, I feel bad, my sketches won’t come out the way I want them to be and that makes me feel even worse. Drawing is usually an easy task for me but apparently _not today_ as everything else. It doesn't end up being the relaxing activity I usually enjoy.

 

I don’t go out of the classroom, not even for a smoke. I don’t even go out for more coffee. Everyone is leaving for lunch when I ask Ryan (a mutual, a friend) to lend me his phone so I can call in sick for work. I never call in sick, _never._ This is an exception, and I’m always worried about exceptions becoming habits so that’s why I don’t make them often. I always worry about a lot of things, but this is not the case.

 

Ryan asks if I want coffee, says that he can bring me a cup and then we can close the door and open the windows and smoke inside and talk because _dude, we never hang out anymore, you’re always busy._

 

I accept, because _of course it sounds like a good idea. Great idea in fact._

 

So he comes back with two cups of coffee and the door keys because we are friends with the staff and everybody knows that if you’re kind to them and provide them with cigarettes or a bottle of wine whenever they seem to want one they will always return the favour and not tell anyone whenever you want to close a classroom just for yourself and fill it up with nicotine and try and do some art meanwhile.

 

they won’t tell anyone and nobody will ask.

 

“So,” Ryan sips out of his foam cup, scrawny legs resting over a table that probably used to be white in the past “how come we hadn’t had time to just _do this_ lately?”

 

He lights the tip of his menthol cig and he leans closer so he can also light the tip of my own cigarette which hangs from my lips. I take a long drag and frown out of habit when I burn my tongue lightly with the coffee. letting out the smoke I can see Ryan do the same.

 

“I’m sorry, rent and deadlines coming up soon, you know how it is.” and he does know. he is kind of caught in the same shit as me, both of us living on our own trying to stay afloat.

 

“yeah, I feel ya’ “ he smiles sadly and me, being my usual sleep-deprived self, kind of envies him because at least he has Brendon and that’s one of the differences between him and me. I’m kind of lonely but I don’t really give it much of a thought.

 

“How’s everything going between Brendon and you?”

 

And the way his eyes light up and how happy he seems just for the simple action of me mentioning his name makes my stomach churn.

 

“He will be playing at a bar this weekend,” he says excitedly “At Fever Era. you could come, you know?” 

 

I take another drag and agree, even though I’m not sure I can make it. I promise him I will charge my phone and have it on by Friday so we can text and see if can make it and go catch some drinks with him and Spence while Brendon plays. 

 

Eventually we unlock the door and Ryan goes to give the keys back. The rest of the absent students that were enjoying lunch break outside start crowding the room again and I’m back at working on the female model that poses on the middle of the class. 

 

Six o’clock comes around and there are a few more students left apart from me, I usually leave at half past five but not today since I won’t be working. The model long gone, all of us working on the geometric bodies arranged for us to sketch.

 

A eight o’clock I’m alone, working extra hard at getting the sphere right, almost done with the cube. This is an easy exercise, meant only for practising the first year of the career and maybe the first semester of second year but i’m giving it a lot of attention recently. it’s kind of numbing, drawing straight lines, trying to recreate the weight of the figures. This should be the easiest exercise of them all but today I'm putting a lot of effort into making it as realistic as possible. Into the gentle shadows which are caressing the surface of the table, on each highlight. On everything really, the general composition of this.

 

I don’t hear the door opening and the soft footsteps. I don’t notice either that someone has taken a sit right behind me and is contemplating my canvas. I don’t notice until I’m lighting a cigarette (the first one since lunch break) and straightening my back making my bones crack. That's when I turn around and almost jump because Tyler is there and i don’t know how long he has been there and he looks so casual with his ukulele sitting besides him over a table, legs over a chair and notebook held close staring hard at my sketches.

 

I kind of want to yell at him for scaring me, but I settle for a simple “Hi” once I’ve got my breathing under control and I’ve picked up my cigarette that had fell to the floor because I’d dropped it.

 

His eyes go to my eyes and he is smiling again but in a different way, his eyes are a little clouded and he certainly isn’t high. I remember our encounter in the morning and I wish for the hundredth time today that I hadn’t left so abruptly or that things could have been different and hadn't ended with me being a anxious prick.

 

“Hi” I say again and I realise it’s the second time I’ve said it.

 

“Hey Josh” his voice is small and he doesn’t sound completely fine but I push that thought far behind my mind so I can stop thinking about asking what’s wrong. “How has your day been?”

 

“I’ve been here since…” I don’t want to say _this morning_ so I trail off and look at my hands which are completely stained with charcoal. “I have been here all day. how was _your_ day?”

 

“It was alright, worked hard on a silkscreen and took some pictures” he still looks sad and I’m about to ask _why do you happen to be so sad, you look miserable._ but I stop myself because that would be rude.

 

instead I ask him if he’s okay.

 

“yeah… well, no exactly but whatever.”

 

In that exact moment my stomach grumbles really loudly, or maybe not as loud as I think but because we are on an empty classroom the echo doesn’t help and Tyler notices.

 

“Are you hungry, Josh?” he asks, big eyes looking at me.

 

“Yeah… well, haven’t really left this place since _this morning_ so… yeah” I am embarrassed, I suddenly feel bad, _of course i’m hungry, because I’m stupid and I’ve been hiding in this classroom all day because I didn’t want to see you after this morning._ I scratch my nose and I realise that I must have gotten charcoal on my face, _oh good Josh, now you look dumber than usual._

 

Tyler giggles and I don’t feel so bad anymore because even if I’m making a fool out of myself _again_ at least he doesn’t seem so…  _sad._

 

“Let’s go eat!” 

 

“Ah,” I don’t know how to explain that I don’t have money so I just blurt it out “I can’t really afford it right now…”

 

“I’ll pay!” and I’m not sure why does this seem like such a good idea to him.

 

And I know it is a bad idea, mainly because my flat is a mess and because it just _is a bad idea_ but I suggest going to my place and ever since he has his ukulele with him we could try out jamming and maybe even working on _our band._

 

But I forget everything about feeling self-conscious or about feeling guilty because he is paying for food _(or everything bad that has happened today)_ when he looks up with the most hopeful look I’ve ever seen someone muster and excitedly asks if I’m being serious like it’s the best thing that has happened to him _ever._

 

“Really Josh? Are you really being serious?”

 

and I sigh and I can’t help but let out a tiny laugh because it’s like a caricature. “Yes, I’m totally being serious.” I look around and grab my stuff. “Let’s go.”

 

I leave the sketches taped down on the easel, I don't care about them, they're bad anyway, grab the backpack, turn off the lights, walk out of this place.

 

Tyler is someone who actually enjoys walking and I'm pleased to find out that he likes better taking the bus than the subway, and that if he can, he prefers walking. So we walk. He dials Taco Bell and asks if they deliver. They don't. We laugh and he lights a cigarette, I can see a rolled joint peeking out in his cigarette pack when he offers me one. We smoke silently and it's dark and cold and I shiver a lot. He notices (I think) so he offers me to buy coffee. I politely deny the offer, he is already paying for food.

 

We get food and we laugh about shitty lame jokes. I notice that whenever he smiles his eyes smile with him and it makes me feel a little warmer on the inside. 

 

I wish I could spent more evenings getting food and going back to mine to practice on songs we haven't written yet. I think about it for about a block before we step inside the gates of my building and I remember that I'm actually almost broke and that I should have gone to work. For once I don't worry so much and I invite Tyler in and apologise for the mess.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you should stop thinking for a while.


	3. you'll go to hell for what your dirty mind is thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes you leave for a while, don't worry, you'll come back.

It just happened to be easy. Easy to slip notes here and there. 

 

Eventually I realised that Tyler is just as careless as I am with my phone so, in the end, passing notes to each other in the mornings worked wonders. His were torn from his own notebook, always stained with ink in variations of black, grey or even  _ red  _ some days. It consisted of doodles or scribbled anecdotes from his hardworking hours at the serigraphy workshop or even quotes from his stoner friends who happened to be just as hilarious to me as they seemed to be to Tyler. 

 

Tyler would constantly ask things like  _ are u ok josh u seem distracted?  _ and even  _ I _ couldn't manage to get annoyed over him asking things that I would much rather appreciate he ignored. Other times, mostly on Thursdays (because it was the only day I usually didn't work (if Colleen would happen to ask if I could work a shift I would most certainly say yes though.)) he would actually write things more like ‘ _ meet me at 7.15 @ the gates’. _

 

Our system isn't the best and  _ why am I even saying 'our’,  _ but it isn't as awkward for me that way because I don't have to reply, in fact, I never reply to neither of his notes.

 

I only ever hand him slips of paper when I have something on mind that I  _ really  _ think that Tyler needs to know, meanwhile, I know it's enough. Some day it probably won't be enough and he will grow bored of my unresponsive self and he will probably progressively stop talking to me or giving me silly doodles. 

 

that’s how life works, you get to know someone, share time with them, eventually they will move on and everything will be the same. people go in and out of people’s life on a daily basis,  _ not that i wouldn’t care if Tyler left right now. _

 

Sighing as I ruffle my hair,  _ resigned _ , I can't help but cringe at the amount of dirty dishes lying on the counter of the cafe. But it doesn't matter, because Tyler is about to get here and I am closing the local for today. The torn, wrinkled, piece of paper hidden in the pocket of my jeans says Tyler's coming to the cafe at its closing hour. And know that I think about it, I haven't even stopped to think when I started to blindly believe in whatever he wrote on these things. I avoid minding it too much as I scrub down coffee mugs and filthy plates and  _ who the fuck is the dumbshit who just casually put all of this disgusting dishes in the sink without throwing the remaining food in the trash?  _

 

Now there is a copious amount of water (and I most definitely don't feel like dealing with it tonight) unable to go down the drain due to soggy food that has gotten stuck on the pipe. 

 

_ Fuck me.  _

 

I close my eyes for a few seconds, sighing again. can’t help but wonder about great impressionist painters from the past, and however they dealt with this;  _ this  _ being: dirty dishes (today, at the art theory class Tyler couldn’t stop giggling and i knew he was fucked out of his mind but i didn’t say anything to him and listened intently to whatever the professor was explaining about impressionism and expressionism and whatever they have in common with current trends in modern society) Artists such as Manet, Monet... even Matisse, most of them probably didn't even have to deal with this. I indulge my fantasy further, wondering if Goya or Munch had to do dishes, they could have had a maid for all I know.

 

And I _know_ as I think about it that I am _wrong_ , _so absolutely wrong,_ that some of them (maybe the most) dealt with worse problems than an obstructed pipe, most of them, famous or infamous artists had to do the unthinkable and worked harder than anybody I know and I feel pathetic because I'm wetting my apron and I can't seem to shake of the feeling that I am forgetting something important. I need to remember myself more constantly that I am not actually living the worst life, that it could be worse, that I should be grateful my grandparents didn't disown me when they found out I was kind of _gay and interested in art (And_ _by 'kind of gay’ I mean that i would kiss a girl and a boy and i wouldn’t mind.  and that is exactly what no one in my Catholic family actually understands_. _because god created a man, and then he created a woman and anything besides that is unholy. i am unholy._ )

 

I need to shed the compassion I have for myself somewhere in the trash because it won't take me anywhere. I'm pretty sure I could actually break down if I didn’t stop my inner emo dialogue _. Ha, yes, as if you could ever stop _ . 

 

Try me. 

 

I finish with the dishes and I still wonder what am I forgetting because I can't remember what I wrote in my to-do list this morning and I accidentally wiped some acrylic paints with it at today's anatomy seminar.  _ still the most organised and clean person ever, aren't I?  _

 

I hear the front bell chime in and I dry my hands and curse my co-workers because they left too much things unfinished today for me to take care of.

 

“ _ Hey” _

 

I can only listen to some distant greeting. I need to close the windows from the second floor and scrub down this whole place so it is easier to open tomorrow but mostly: I need to show responsibility, if it's not for the sake of this job it's for my own because I can't live feeling like I'm constantly letting people down.

 

I'm still forgetting something I needed to get done, I can't find the mop and there are still pastries outside the cold chamber and I am still dancing around the fact that tomorrow is March 16th, my Mom's birthday and somehow I can't seem to ignore it any longer.

 

“Hey, Josh”

 

I am still forgetting something but now I can't forget the calendar so I don't try to push Tyler away from me when he picks the little pieces of mind that are scattered on the floor near the bottle of bleach and tries to put me back together. 

 

“Josh it's fine, it's already clean”

 

He kind of sits next to me because apparently I am sitting on the tiled floor with soap all over my face and wet clothes and it is awkward because my arms are stiff and I can't unfold them from my middle and he is trying to hold me but I'm not letting him do it because it doesn't make sense anymore, I haven't talked to mom in over a year. 

 

“Josh, it's okay” Tyler tries to calm me but my hands are clay and his torso is hot and warm but I don't think I can ever remember what I wrote on my to-do list this morning.

 

“I’m calling your manager, I don't think you should close the store, I don't think you're able to right now.”

 

And that phrase kind of brings me back to earth. In my mind I have the image of a silly caricature of a ghost version of me floating around near the clouds, away from my body and suddenly, without being able to help it, falling into it, falling into reality. 

 

What is Tyler talking about? No, I'm not letting him do that, Colleen doesn't need to hear me whining about having too much work, I chose to work here and I am the one always jumping to the offer of another extra shift.

 

“What are you talking about? No.” It's utterly terrifying how suddenly I seem to be able to listen, how suddenly I'm not being covered by foam and how now there is not a stream of thoughts going wild on my head. “Go wait outside, I'll be there in 8 minutes,  _ sorry _ ”

 

And my voice sounds awfully like the first time Tyler came around, cold, dull, dead. 

 

Tyler doesn't hesitate much, he just closes his gaping mouth and opens it again to close it (kind of like a fish but it is Tyler so he doesn't really remind me of a fish). He walks out and I see him pull out his pack of cigarettes. 

 

I close the local, everything is alright. Everything is fine although I am still forgetting about something important and now I feel guilty because tomorrow is indeed my Mom's birthday and it makes me feel stupid.

I'm trembling and Tyler is oddly quiet when we get to his flat but I don't want to think about it. 

 

We cook some vegetables on the oven and Tyler reheats some rice on the microwave, it's our usual routine by now but I don't forget to feel slightly embarrassed because Tyler comes from a really good family and has a really good flat in an amazing neighborhood near the Boheme of this city. 

 

But that remains as a though and I don't outwardly express the feeling that it still is  feels like some kind of charity. 

 

Tyler says something funny and I laugh. It’s still kind of odd because his eyes seem glazed for a second before and I know I have made him upset but I rub it off. 

 

He is fragile, I know.

 

I know but he doesn't say anything. 

 

“Hey, you said you had some lyrics.”

 

“Let me show you!” He looks for his notebook, the one he never seems to have any further where he can reach. 

 

He writes magnificently and I admire him for that. I let him know. 

 

It's a normal night, I'm forgetting something and my chest is kind of tight after looking at something he wrote that reminds me I'm a shit son but it  _ is _ a normal night and I fall asleep on the couch while hearing him hum a slow tune. 

 

I dream of a metallic sound and overall of a void in which I'm falling. 

  
  


***

 

In the morning I am dazed but it's alright. We drink coffee (or more like I drink coffee and he has some tea with buttered toast) 

 

I'm eyeing my phone but it's off so it's not a big deal.

 

We walk together to our campus and we share a cigarette before we leave to our respective places. I don't miss the way he hugs me and it makes me warm, I watch him leave and I stump out the butt of the cigarette.

 

I am whistling as I greet Ryan but he is busy hanging photographs on the white walls of the room. 

 

Today was the deadline for the photography project and  _ that  _ was what I was forgetting yesterday.

 

Oh.

 

I see Pete, our professor, on the far end of the room and he is chatting with Patrick, a really fucking good student and I am not hyperventilating. 

 

I can tell Ryan is looking at me weirdly and  _ bye Ryan, take care, I'll see you later.  _ Then I'm taking my backpack and leaving quietly before someone else notices I'm there. 

 

Today was the deadline, I'm so fucked. 

 

I slowly walk through the halls of the building until I'm on the outer classrooms. How could I have forgotten? I've been working on this project for almost three weeks and I'm fucked. I need to do something about this, this shouldn't be a big deal.

 

But it is.

 

It is a big fucking deal and I'm making it even worse by thinking about how my photographs didn't even compete against the ones I just saw on the classroom just now. Everybody was putting their work on the walls and I can't help but gape at them and beat myself over the fact that I knew and somehow I forgot and now I'm risking a really bad grade. As I walk I'm still figuring out what I'll be doing about this. I'm figuring out how the hell I'm supposed to fix this. That's exactly what I am doing as I take a drag out of my newly lit cig and literally stroll around the grass.

 

I don't see why I still am on the campus, I should be leaving but here I am calmly walking through groups of people waiting for their classes to start. I could be panicking but I'm not, I will bring the photograph's tomorrow, make up some bullshit as why I am currently not able to function properly due to a bad state of mind because I have  _ mommy _ issues. Yes, that sounds as a good excuse and an even better way of taking advantage of this awful date. 

 

Or even better, I could just jump in front of a car and be excused this whole week of all the things I need to do because I would be too busy lying in a hospital bed, yeah, that sounds absolutely better. 

 

I tend to forget things easily when I'm stressed and by now I should know better than this, I should carry an agenda around, write down everything that needs to be done and get my shit together. 

 

I put my hands on my pocket and I realise I have extra change, I could save it for the hospital bill that I'm gonna get if I really carry on with my plan of jumping in front of a car (which I doubt considering I've never done that before and that I've actually thought about it it more than twice). I buy myself a bar of chocolate and I sit on the wet grass. I should know better.

 

I take a bite out of the milk chocolate -it’s too sweet and it numbs my gums for a while- and stare off at nothing in particular. I should be more worried but you won't be surprised to know that this is not the first time I have forgotten a deadline, I can get out of this. Yes.  _ I will get out of this.  _

 

I shift my gaze until I see a familiar hoodie, a familiar pose. I take another bite out of the candy and I swallow far too quickly. It's Tyler, he's laughing his ass off, he is hanging out with the same artsy guys that always are around him whenever he is not with me and  _ when did I start to spend so much time around him.  _ Tyler is like a big, smelly, hot piece of shit and those guys are like flies and  _ I am a fly too who am I trying to fool.  _ I laugh a little at my disgusting metaphor and finish my chocolate. Tyler seems to be laughing a little too loud and his posture is shaking slightly but I might be the only one who notices it. 

 

Tyler starts to walk in my direction without noticing me and for some reason I don't want him to see me so I stand up and walk slowly to anywhere else but him. I don't think he watches me leave but he is having some trouble walking and I can see in his unsure movements that he isn't particularly lucid right now.  _ And it shouldn't bother me, Tyler is nothing more than a stoner I met that happens to be the sweetest most talented student I've had the honour to talk to.  _ But Tyler is swaying and as soon as he is hidden from the world behind a particularly big tree he falls to his knees and I am glued to the ground and I can't move or help him because I'm not on my body and  _ what's with the ghost caricatures lately.  _

 

Tyler is kneeling, or maybe more like crunching, head between his hands and it's too early for this, it’s not even past noon and I know what's going to happen, I've been to too many parties to not know but it feels surreal because half an hour ago we were just walking here and  _ this shouldn't have happened. Why do you do this Tyler, are you stupid? _

 

Tyler is throwing up his breakfast and the tea he drank with me and something else that looks dark and gooey and I'm ignoring the tears that form in the corner of his eyes (I'm close enough to notice) and he is moaning in between pain and disgust and I am petrified. He doesn't notice me.

 

He gags a few times but nothing comes out and after he's sure that there's nothing else inside of him he wipes his mouth with the overly long sleeve and stays there for a while. He looks awfully pale and sick. I hadn't notice the dark circles engulfing his eyes this morning but I'm not surprised to find that he seems to be high out of his mind.

 

I feel guilty when I'm turning around and finally leaving but it's not me the one who's moving my body. 

 

The mental image of Tyler covered in stomach acid makes my own stomach churn and I should have been able to do something  _ what's wrong with me.  _ It wouldn't all be  _ so bad  _ if I had some sense of reality left in me because all of these events have been like recalling a dream ever since yesterday.

 

I get to my flat, there's an unsettling smell of emptiness inside and the blinds are closed and there are papers and clothes lying around. It's definition of messy, of perturbed. I'm grossed out but it's not necessarily by my horrible habit of wrecking this place whenever I can but because of something I can't quite understand.

 

I barely make it to the bathroom before I'm gagging on the toilet bowl.

 

It's violent and naughty and I wonder if I really saw Tyler vomit because it feels like I could have been sleeping this whole time.

 

I close my eyes momentarily.

 

I'm not sure how long it is before I'm stepping on the shower with my clothes still on and turning on the hot water. I have trouble breathing and the water is ice cold at first, making me dizzy, but it gets warmer and warmer until I'm surrounded by a hot wall between my body and the real world.  _ When did this day turn to be so fucking horrible? _

 

I stay there for too long and I get dizzy again, and even though I'm burning I feel extremely cold. 

 

Maybe I got lucky and I have fever. 

 

Maybe I am actually dying. 

 

My clothes feel like chains so somewhere in between turning off the water and hopping off the shower I take them off. There are no towels in the bathroom so I walk to my messy bed and get under the covers,  _ I don't care that I'm wet I'm freezing and confused and I hope Tyler is okay.  _

 

I fall asleep sometime near noon, I don't wake up until way after midnight.

  
  


***

 

Waking up is an affair. I am clammy and cold and everything could be so much better. There is a second in which I'm just uncomfortable, I don't remember anything, I'm not stressed or worried, I'm just plainly uncomfortable and my back's aching but that's all. 

 

A few seconds pass and I groan, I am filled with a sensation of panic and I feel uneasy, so I force myself out of bed into the cold wooden floor of my flat to get my phone and its charger. My stomach is unsettled and I eye the apples on my kitchen counter before deciding against eating fruit. I boil some water instead. 

 

I plug my phone and leave it to charge over the nightstand. There's steam coming from the kitchen and I mix honey and half a lemon (which was left from the other day when Tyler made this same exact mixture) into a mug that seems relatively clean. I add some ginger, some powdered cinnamon and pour the hot, boiling water over it. I head to the bed and turn on a lamp on the desk sitting on the other end of the bedroom - _ the light bulb of the ceiling is missing.  _ I bury under the covers of the bed again, hiding almost in a  _ literal way _ from my problems.  _ How did this day go so bad? _

 

_ I can't answer my own questions. _

 

I take a daring look at the screen of my phone which is now waiting a soft glow. I turned it on before making 'tea’. I must add that I'm not someone popular but I haven't turned on my phone probably since Sunday and it's flooding in notifications of text messages and missed calls.  _ Three missed calls from my brother, whom I haven't talked since Christmas (our phone call consisted of half-assed greetings and hollow promises of catching up soon.)  _

 

Nothing from Tyler and I'm not surprised. At least nothing since Monday. 

 

I am extremely thirsty but sadly I am also nauseous and my head is spinning but I drink the hot beverage in two big, greedy gulps. I give my brother a phone call but after the second ring I remember that it's almost three am and ultimately decide against keep on trying because I have no interest in hearing about him tonight.

 

I don't want to hear about mom either,  _ not now when I'm hiding like a rat. _

 

So I block the screen of my phone and think about whether it's a good idea calling Tyler to see if he is okay, he must be awake, he always falls asleep around three am,  _ why do I know that?  _

 

I stare at my reflection on the dark screen. I am pale, really pale, a lot paler than usual but my cheeks have a tinge of pink due to due warmness of being under three blankets and drinking something hot. My hair is disarranged and frizzy (oh surprise) and my eyes are red and irritated. My mouth seems dry. The skin around my lips is blotchy. I just look overall tired which is funny since I've been sleeping all day long.  _ Wow, now I've truly turned into a sloth. _

 

I don't call Tyler.

 

I fall into a fragile slumber, sweating uncontrollably and my body aching. 

 

I think about it for a long time and the answer of everything looks like it might be:  _ Maybe I got lucky and I have fever.  _

_ Maybe I am actually dying. _

 

I don't realise that my eyes are wet too until it's too late and I'm reminiscing about my life and thinking about how I've acquired the same habits my dad had used to have because all I'm doing is actively avoiding my problems. 

 

_ Oh god, please, just stop. _

 

_ Yep, I definitely have fever.  _

 

_ *** _

 

_ I don't mean to be rude but aren't you covered in dirt? Why aren't you moving? What's happening?  _

 

_ *** _

 

Waking up for the second time is goddamned terrible. I'm almost too warm _,_ too tired to move, just simply drained of energy. But I hear the birds chirping outside and I should eat something and I don't want look at my phone but I do anyways.

 

Another missed call from my brother, always playing the hero. No sign of Tyler or nothing that truly is important so I sigh before looking up to the empty socket on my ceiling.

 

I don’t have the energy to do anything. i should know by now, [nothing good comes from being gone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BBj47DZeeAs)

 

I lay there, I wonder, for the millionth time,  _ how did everything end up so bad? _

 

there are cracks on the ceiling, used clothes scattered on the floor, I wonder how much would it cost to go to a hospital to check if i’m really coming down with something or if it’s all in my head. Today I have a shift at five, I think I can make it. but i need to drink some water, cook something - _ anything-  _ and call my brother.

 

I sigh, I’m fucking sore,  _ god knows why. _

 

Counting to ten I prepare myself for getting out of the bed,  _ come on you can do this.  _ and before I know it i’m up. A little dizzy, everything goes black for a few seconds, but  _ i am out of the bed, standing up.  _ I check the time, it’s early. Really early. I have time to clean the flat, maybe even do the laundry. Maybe I could call my brother while i’m it. then i’ll do the groceries, buy cheap stuff, just the necessary to make soup. and then i’ll go to work. I’ll go to the cafe and later I’ll finish the photography assignment and i’ll email the TA of the class telling her about my situation, everything will be alright…

 

and what about Tyler?

 

now that’s something i don’t know what to deal with. somehow, after ridiculously bad episodes of  _ whatever it is that happens every time something goes inexplicably wrong  _ I get really clean headed and detached. I am able to deal with stress, I am able to deal with deadlines, university,  _ family even,  _ but I don’t even know where does Tyler fit in any of these categories. 

 

So i decide i’m going to deal with everything i can deal with today. I am weak and I feel dizzy but I will work this out and after that,  _ after that i can see if i can face Tyler. _

 

*******

  
  


The flat is actually clean before noon comes around, clean laundry is not-so-neatly placed on my bed but it’s done  _ and i’m feeling proud but i feel ashamed of admitting it because, fuck it’s just laundry and a tidy flat. _

 

There is some vegetable broth on the stove, and my phone is completely charged.

 

My phone is completely charged and i’m sitting on the counter watching it with some kind of apprehension from a distance. I can’t bring myself to pick it up. My head is aching and the only thing i forgot was going to the drugstore to get something for this cold.

 

I decide i’ll call him later.

 

***

 

_ Later _ ends up being too late, I am sitting on the floor of the flat with a cigarette lazily hanging between my lips after successfully finishing the photography assignment, after having received an answer to the email i sent to the TA saying that  _ Ryan had informed him i wasn’t feeling ok, and that she had no problem if i handed the assignment tomorrow in an envelope before noon  _ because  _ she understood. _

 

I read the time displayed at the screen of my phone, it’s already too late to do anything, even to go  _ sleep _ . I need to be at the campus at eleven o’clock in a few hours so i have time for a nap,  _ maybe _ . I’m still feeling kind of dizzy and sick but it’s okay, i’ve had it  _ worse. _

 

_ i can’t stop thinking about tyler. _

 

_ i still wonder if yesterday, _ or should i say, the day before _ yesterday, was even real.  _

 

It used to happen this a lot while i was on high school, it stopped for a while.  _ this  _ being  _ forgetting stuff, a sense of detachment, wondering if it was real. _

 

I prefer to stop thinking about but my mind inevitably goes back to Tyler.

 

_ I think i saw him outside the cafe today, but when i took my break he was nowhere to be seen. _

 

I set an alarm so i can get a power-nap. I close my eyes and smell black ink in my dreams.

 

***

 

I don’t see Tyler hanging around the campus, I see his stoner friends though. I don’t ask them about him.

 

I hand in the assignment. 

 

I feel numb.

 

I stay at the library the whole morning, i sip at the cold cup of coffee i have besides me. somehow, something feels wrong. 

 

Tyler always found me whenever I was feeling down. I am worried about him but i can’t stand up and seek him out. i’m the biggest coward. I stay glued to the chair im currently sitting in. 

 

I try not to think about it.

 

I try not to think about it as i take orders from customers i don’t really care about.

 

I haven’t seen tyler since a the day before yesterday.

 

I go back to my place.

 

And as i’m about to unlock the door I curse out loud.

 

I’m tired, sleep deprived, probably sick, and wondering if it’s worth paying a visit to the apartment of the only significant relationship i’ve been able to establish because i’m worried sick if he’s okay. 

 

I curse one more time because i’m always a fucking coward, never able to face anything. I feel guilty. I mostly feel like a charity case whenever i go to his flat but he is  _ my friend.  _

 

And maybe it’s because i’m too tired to process what i’m doing but i tap a beat with my fingers against my thigh as i walk familiar streets to the nice neighbourhood i’ve spent too much hours to count with my fingers.

 

and i’m pounding on a familiar door.  _ what am i doing. _

 

and it takes a few minutes but i hear footsteps on the other side of the door and before i know it  a familiar face opens it looking just as tired as my own reflection looks. I am not able to say anything because i didn’t thought of anything and Tyler’s eyes kind of light up and he looks like shit but he is hugging me before i realise what is going on.

 

Actually, I don’t know what  _ is going on,  _ but for once I don’t care.

  
It’s okay, I’m okay, He’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you if you read. took me long enough, i'm sorry for this too. this last chapter if not completely edited, was posted on an impulse but i guess i'll just have to clean it later.
> 
> i feel like its not a great work but it's something and it's done. 
> 
> thank you.
> 
> the song that inspired this is Nude, from Radiohead, i'd like to give them credit for the chapter tittles and for their amazing music.

**Author's Note:**

> Tittle credits to the song 'Nude' by Radiohead from their album 'In Rainbows'.
> 
> thank you for reading! if you find any typo please comment it and i'll fix it as soon as i can!


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